Orphans of Otherworld: Moon Scarred
by BetweenheavenandHell
Summary: Living on the streets is a dangerous life, even when your not human...


**Orphans of Otherworld:**

**Moon Scarred**

Summary: Zack Delong is an orphan with a secret, he's a teenaged werewolf, but the movies lied, it's no game. Fortunately he has a group of supernatural misfits to back him up, and between a brooding vampire leader and an insane necromancer life is never dull. However, there's something new stalking the unwary of the supernatural world, and Zack and his friends are about to become its latest Prey…

Prologue: Change

Pain.

Such a deceptively simple word really, barely two syllables at most, a pittance of linguistics that is meant to convey something far more impressive.

However, it has a far deeper meaning, one few people have the questionable privilege of becoming acquainted with. I was one of those lucky few, hooray for me no?

Perhaps I should explain better, but this isn't something my kind likes to talk to strangers about… at least, I know I sure as hell wouldn't, and I'm not even sure there are anymore like me, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

Imagine if you will, and if you'll excuse the cheesy 'Twilight Zone' monologue, a cool autumn evening on the outskirts of 'sunny' Toronto, in amongst the thick and encompassing embrace of Mother Nature. Surrounded by tall and reaching pines as far as the eye can see, only the stars overhead as company.

It's the kind of night you'd expect to find two young lovers taking a late stroll, their minds undoubtedly more on each other and various… outdoor activities, rather than contemplating their surroundings. Or perhaps one of societies' more scholarly members out enjoying the ambience as he or she ponders the deeper questions of the world around them.

Such a tranquil scene isn't it. I don't suppose any of you happened to have the image of a young man, more a boy really, though he'd certainly contest that fact were he a little less preoccupied, screaming himself hoarse as a searing agony more intense than anyone should ever have to endure burned its way beneath his skin?

No? Didn't think so, and to be honest, I could have done without it as well, but it's something I have to endure. With each Change, comes pain, as is the life of a werewolf.

That last statement might have you all convinced I'm crazy was I stupid enough to voice it aloud, but I'm bright enough to realise the most help I'd ever get from anyone would be a one way ticket to the nearest asylum, and at worst… well, how many of you ever saw that movie about alien autopsies?

I fresh wavy of pain cut short my musings about short features with such titles as "Werewolves Exposed!" or, "Governmental Super soldier? The Lupine Project", that all featured a roguishly handsome, if very, very dead werewolf as their main attraction.

Hot on the tail of the first salvo came a blistering crescendo that doubled me over faster than any blow to the gut, the jolt to my knees as my back muscles convulsed to force me down, bending my spine in ways I know it isn't supposed to go and wrenching my head back, barely noticeable.

My face seemed to stretch as my chewed short nails dug into the cold earth, the cords on my neck bulging and writhing, cutting off my ability to speak just as my knee joints reversed with a loud snap that reverberated through the woods around me.

Had I dared open my eyes I'm sure I would have seen the fur sprouting from my body, the same sandy brown as my hair was normally but everywhere, however, I'd never been able to work up the courage to watch the Change.

My brain began to shift, new thoughts and sensations already streaming in, adding the chaos, and, as I had every other time this had happened for the past year since my nightmare began, I blacked out.

* * *

When I awoke, I simply lay panting for a few minutes, too drained to even open my eyes, or maybe too scared.

Whatever the reason I eventually managed, confusion sparking panic as a tumbled mess of browns and greys barely identifiable as the woodland around me at first streamed in through eyes set behind a muzzle tipped with a cold black nose.

I stood, my brain making the final transitions necessary to allow me to coordinate four legged movement automatically as I shook my new body thoroughly, shifting my weight to my hind quarters and wiggling my backside in the air, tail wagging like a dog that just received a pat on the head from its master.

I want to say that I was shocked, mortified, disgusted even… but that would be a lie. As much as I could claim to hate it as a human, when I became a wolf all I felt was joy, pure unadulterated freedom. I was master of all I surveyed here, this forest my domain and I knew it.

I reset my weight and sprung through the air, landing and wheeling with ease, feigning left, then right, snapping at my own tail as it flashed into view.

Convinced that all was as it should be, it threw back my head and let loose a howl of pleasure, tongue lolling out as I brought it back down, eyes scanning the woods, nose twitching in deep, even breathes.

My nose caught something straight away, to the south, the scent of prey, the scent of human.

A human, on my territory? Inconceivable, this demanded action, but even as I started forward, ears flat and teeth bared in a semi-growl, my human side kicked in, screaming at me to ignore it, to carry on, but the wolf in me couldn't allow it.

I proceeded slowly, resting on my footpads as I crossed the rockier terrain to make sure my claws made no sound until I reached a grass covered hill, carefully negotiating my way down it, a feat much harder on four legs than two I assure you.

As I got closer, the scent gaining strength, something tingled at the back of my mind, that unidentifiable section that bridged both human and lupine aspects of my psyche and could be defined by neither.

Slowly my anger gave way to curiosity, as smell gain a sense of familiarity I couldn't place.

I slunk like a wraith up to the edge of a small clearing, poking my nose carefully from under a bush I had chosen as my cover.

The clearing was empty now, but the scent was strongest here, as if the person… no, the woman, I was sure the scent was female now, had lingered here, multiple trails crossing each other over the small area before departing on the opposite side.

When nothing came to disturb the stillness of the night, I carefully eased out of my hiding spot, trotting almost casually into the opening, knowing that I had nothing to fear in this place.

Against the tree closest to where the female had departed, was a small brown bag, her scent lingering over in heavily, she must have been carrying it before abandoning it here.

Snagging the bottom of it with my teeth, I upended the contents onto the floor, starring at the piles of cloth uncomprehendingly for a few minutes before that illusive bridge passed on the memory of clothes to my dominant side.

I sniffed them, inhaling deeply, the sense of reassurance I got from the smell permeated into them as relaxing as my inability to define why or even, who it belonged to was infuriating.

There was another, even more familiar scent bellow this, but before I could begin to identify it another was blown in, one that banished all human thoughts.

As my head slowly rotated, following my nose, my eyes, a shade of brown so dark they'd seem almost black, zeroed in on the tiny, grey furred creature that had caught my attention.

Having only just realised its error after blundering into the clearing, the rabbit remained frozen, perhaps by the presence of a predator, but probably also due to the fact it was seeing something that looked like a wolf, but smelt human.

My lips peeled back in a canine grin, a low growl echoing from deep in my throat, a message that any prey animal should know well.

Run.

Wheeling on its heels the tiny animal bolted for all it was worth, and I allowed it a split second head start before taking off after it like there was something just as bad chasing me.

I never had any interest in hunting as a human. Then again I'd only been a child really, and with no Father around to teach me the joys of such manly activities it just never held any appeal.

My friends would talk about it and I'd just frown. What was so great about being stuck in the woods with a bunch of unwashed old men in deerstalkers, most of them so drunk they'd probably shoot _you_ if you weren't careful, and I still hold that opinion.

Now hunting as a wolf, that's a whole different ball game. The thrum of your paws on the ground, resonating with the pounding of your heart and the pulse of the blood and adrenaline thundering in your ears is just indescribable.

And even better, as a werewolf my brain now came equipped with centuries old, tried and tested hunting patterns, all I needed to know without ever learning a thing, if only everything was that easy.

As the rabbit ran on ahead I dropped back a little, not enough to loose it, but enough to guarantee I was out of its sight and began circling around. I'd heard the rush of water to my left, though fleeing in terror the rabbit wouldn't have noticed yet.

Putting on a burst of speed I drew level with the smaller animal, letting out a yip for good measure and the rabbit responded as any frightened animal would.

I was to the right, so it broke left.

Only realising its mistake as the river loomed into view that grey furred rabbit slammed on the brakes too late, clipping a rock on the pebble lined shore and cart wheeling into the shallows.

With one long leap I was on it before it could stand, catching it by the scruff of the neck in a spray of icy water and slamming it onto the rocky bank with enough force to shatter its ribcage.

Still fuelled by fear it tried to stand, only managing one feeble twitch of its hind legs before I tore its throat out.

As blood pumped in a steadily decreasing flow over my muzzle, hot and coppery, I fed.

* * *

My belly full after a number of similar hunts, and my shoulder sore from a brief scuffle with an overconfident raccoon that got lucky in my complacence, I wound my way lazily amongst the trees, meandering without a particular aim, almost surprised when I found myself back in the clearing.

By coincidence or drawn in by that enticingly familiar smell I wasn't sure, but as the sun began to peek over the horizon, eliciting a long yawn and a sleepy head shake, I decided I didn't care.

However, a peaceful sleep was denied me. The twinges I had felt in my shoulder were multiplying, travelling slowly throughout my whole body. My happiness was about to be interrupted once again, I was Changing back.

It's just as painful either way, so I'll skip the details this time, but there is one major difference.

When I become a wolf I come with my own set of 'clothing', but when I go back… yeah.

Naked, exhausted and shivering from an ordeal I swore, as I did every time, never to let myself endure again, I was too wiped to even crawl the few feet to the pile of now slightly damp clothes I knew now to be mine.

I gave up; settling for huddling into a protective ball and hoping my shivering would hold back the worst of the cold, which of course it didn't.

As I felt a sleep I now figured I might not wake from tugging at heavy eyelids, my enhanced hearing picked up the faint rustle of booted feet on grass.

I tensed and went still.

This could be my salvation, someone out for a walk who could help me before I froze to death, but I'd long since learned not to be so optimistic. Knowing my luck it would be a six foot six lumberjack with a taste for nubile young boys he hadn't been able to satisfy in a while.

As the footsteps came closer, crashing in my ears even though I knew that they weren't really that loud, my eyes glued to the spot I guessed this mysterious person would emerge from.

An experimental sniff confirmed that they were up wind and thus, impossible to smell, depriving me of any extra, vital information… though how much use I thought it would be seeing as I couldn't even stand I prefer not to dwell on.

Eventually the underbrush crackled and my assailant came into view, my sleep fogged mind taking a second to recognise them and releasing a breath I didn't know I'd been holding.

Five foot seven, topping my own five six by a whole inch, wavy auburn hair that fell to her waist tied back in a loose ponytail, framing a face just this side of pretty, as if nature had sought to apologise for the lack of substantial curves it had blessed her with, was the source of the scent I had recognised earlier.

"Zara?", or at least, that's what it sounded like in my head, in reality it sounded like someone strangling a cat underwater.

Eventually finding the source of the strangled cry, her face lit up in a relieved smile that knocked her well into the realms of pretty had I been in a more receptive state of mind.

"There you are I… damn it!", her face flushed a deep red as the morning light filtered in enough for her to notice my state of undress, "Put some friggin' clothes on you exhibitionist!".

When I didn't apologise, or move for that matter, she risked another look my way, eyes firmly fixed on my chest. I'd like to say it was my finely toned pecks that did it but she was probably just too embarrassed to look me in the eyes, and looking lower was definitely out of the question.

"Zack?", daring to dart a look at my face, her eyes went wide as she took in my blue, chapped lips and my glazed expression, "Shit!".

I don't remember her crossing the gap, just the luxurious rush of warmth that came as her jacket somehow found its way over me, followed by an influx of her smell that calmed any panic the memory loss may have caused.

"Fuck Zack, we have to find a better way of doing this. I know you say it's too dangerous to let us follow, but this isn't the first time something like this has happened… Maybe if you let Eric do it?", I let her ramble as she chaffed my fridged limbs to give the impression I was listening, trying to avoid dozing as the circulation came back to my extremities.

As tempting as it might seem at moments like this I knew I couldn't let any of the others risk following me, even the seemingly indestructible Eric, I didn't trust them not to run if they saw me, and friend or foe, if they ran, I would chase them. I knew that from experience…

A shudder ran through me, shocking me as my body successfully related the full extent of the sensation to me.

"Still cold?", Zara asked from above me, her face marred by concern.

"Nah", I said, awkwardly resting my hands behind, my head, "Just enjoying this as much as I can".

Her mouth moved silently for a moment while she processed this, her concern rapidly replaced by disgust as she dropped my leg and stood, stepping briskly over me.

"Hey! Where are you going? Patient in need of nursing here!", I called after her. It's the wolf in me that made me say that, I swear.

"Take a dip dog boy", she fired back, stooping to retrieve my clothes and tossing them in my direction, "I'm going home"

"It's _wolf-**man**_", I called back indignantly.

"Whatever", her reply echoed up as she vanished from the clearing.

For a moment I just lay there, smiling and quite thoroughly pleased with myself, sure Zara would double back any minute.

She kept walking.

Biting back a oath, I struggled to haul on my clothes a quickly as possible, taking care only not to rip them in my haste, something far to easy to do when one has werewolf strength, remembering to grab her jacket at the last possible moment.

Stumbling down the path she had taken, I followed as best I was able, cursing the clumsiness that seemed to dog my human form, all gangly limbs in my sixteenth year.

"Aw come on Zara, wait up!"

Nothing in life is ever easy is it?

* * *

Chapter 1: Orphans

My name is Zack Delong. I'm sixteen years of age, and I'm a werewolf.

Sounds like a supernatural AA meeting doesn't it, but its true. Either that or I'm having one hell of a bad dream.

I've known what I am for about a year I think, I'm not sure, the early days are a blur. I'd like to say it was the horror and tragedy of being bitten, the slow change from man to beast you see in so many movies, but that's not the case.

I was never bitten.

Up until I was fifteen I led a perfectly normal life. Lived in Niagara with my mom, never met my dad, though she cursed him out often enough when she thought I wasn't listening for me to have a vague notion what he looked like. Single parent families don't carry the stigma they once did. So we were basically ignored and left to live out our boring lives as we saw fit, leeching off the tourist trade just like everyone else.

Normal house, normal school, normal friends… all that changed the night of my fifteenth birthday. That night I would experience the first of many Changes to come, something that was as much news to me as it was to my mother if her scream of horror was anything to go by.

I don't remember what happened after that, all I remember is pain, agonising pain and then nothing until I was running, how and where I don't know, just fleeing, the days and nights blurring into one as I Changed back and forth at random, running away, always running.

Eventually I must have learned enough control to stay human long enough to regain some sense of sanity, cause I remember waking up naked one morning, unable to remember how I'd got there, or why I was there, but sure something terrible had happened.

I wondered the woods alone for days, gibbering nonsense to myself, shouting at phantom memories that taunted me with a life before this, this nothingness, until something, probably hunger, forced me to Change again.

Months must have passed, this pattern repeating as regular as the seasons, as the coming and going of the moon, before I managed some semblance of control over the process, forcing myself to prolong the gap between Changes, trying to stumble back to civilization while my mind was my own.

Eventually I turned up on the outskirts of Toronto, and met Zara. After months without true human contact, Zara was like a red headed angel suddenly appearing before me… Unfortunately I'd been in my wolf form, and hungry from days of starvation.

Somehow she managed to avoid me until I exhausted myself and Changed back.

Then she did something I'll never forget. After seeing what I was, she didn't turn me in, kill me, or run away, she stayed to help me, bringing me food, clothes, everything I needed until I was well enough to walk, and then she told me about somewhere I could go, somewhere safe for _"People like us"_.

I hadn't really known what she meant but I agreed anyway, snagging hold of any thread of companionship after my traumatic experience.

The safehouse turned out to be an old factory on the edge of town, and it would be here, under the protection of my fellow freaks that I would regain some of my lost humanity, and with it, in time, my past.

* * *

I was still bickering with said saviour when we returned, the old habit of climbing the rusted fire escape that was the only way into the build nowadays so engrained that neither of us so much as spared a glance when it groaned dangerously as it always did, lest we loose the rhythm of our argument.

The half boarded windows watched our progress, the clinging shards of glass and dark stains of pollution across the upper levels of the faded brick seeming to give building an exasperated glare, as if it were tired of this little game even if we weren't.

"Lighten up already, I said I was sorry", I groused, perhaps a little bored myself.

Zara just arched an eyebrow over her shoulder, swinging her leg over the top of the fire escape and pausing to look down at me.

It was probably supposed to be uncomfortable, but with my body the way it was, she'd get saddle sore long before my arms even began to quiver.

Zara sighed dramatically, "I suppose it can't be helped, can't really expect much from a kid I guess".

I bit back a retort. Most girls of this age are convinced that they are the more mature of the sexes, regardless of whether their actions back it up or not, and the fact that at seventeen Zara really was a whole year ahead of me in every field didn't help.

"Bitch", I grumbled, too low for her to hear as she carried on, grunting as she pushed the heavy board that disguised the broken entrance aside and went through with only a quick back glance to make sure I'd made it up the fire escape ok.

That was probably the thing that irked me the most, the fact that my grace as a wolf seemed to have largely skipped my human form, at least for now, meaning her check wasn't completely unwarranted as several past events had proved.

When I got inside, Zara was already on the lower level, reclining on rather dog-eared sofa that had somehow found its way in here over the years.

I eyed the steel steps that lead from the gantry I was standing on down to the factory floor, as always unable to figure out how she had made it down there before I got in.

As an experiment I'd once tried to leap from the gantry to the floor, theorising that this must have been how she did it, relying on my amazing werewolf powers to pull me through unscathed… and promptly broke my foot.

I had learned two things though from the experience. Firstly, whatever Zara's power may be, its nothing to do with werewolves, in fact I'm still not sure what her abilities are, and secondly, I wasn't as indestructible as I had come to believe at the time.

Certainly nothing like Eric, but I'm getting ahead of myself again.

In case you hadn't guessed yet, this place is sort of like an orphanage for supernatural brats, sans the caretakers. It's been running self sufficiently for a while apparently, the leader being the oldest member currently residing, in this case the aforementioned Eric.

That was all I'd really paid attention too, the vague notion of a hierarchy satisfying me for some reason and allowing me to switch off for the rest of the orientation lecture, probably a wolf thing, or failing that my short attention span.

I'd quickly learned I was the only werewolf present, but we had plenty of others to make up for that in terms of variety alone.

First up we have Zara, no idea what she is, but she assures us she's not human and no one else seems to question it so I don't either, though the only thing that I've ever though strange about her is her natural scent, sort of like that smell you get after a thunder storm or when you get a static shock but bigger. Strange but nothing that really helps me figure her out.

Next is John, John's a psychic, at least, that's the term he uses, he sometimes sees things, things that haven't happened yet, creepy stuff really, and worse, you can never play a game of poker with him without getting paranoid.

Also doesn't help that he looks like he just stepped off the set of some new teen sensation photo shoot, complete with tan and dark brown curls, not the kind of guy you'd expect people to question having special powers, especially if they're female, but apparently his parents, a rather religious couple, had other ideas and had attempted to drown him one night in some sort of extreme baptism. Driving out the devil or some such nonsense. Fun times, though he seemed to hold no grudge against them even though they had essentially run him off when this failed.

Of course if he was the weirdest person here I'd feel out of place, but luckily we have Irvine. Irvine sees dead people… no, seriously, like that movie sixth sense, but with a dude who looks like the seventeen year old male stunt double of the girl from The Ring instead of a kid, and a whole lot more screaming.

All we can get out of him is that something bad happened to his old man and he thinks the things he sees are his punishment, though for what I don't want to ask, Irvine mostly keeps to himself as far from the rest of us as possible, so we barely hear a peep out of him other than the odd shriek in the middle of the night, just his friendly way of sharing the joy of twenty-four/seven hauntings.

Of course I don't believe in ghosts, but Irvine's pretty damn convincing, and Eric never questions him.

Eric, our esteemed and much put upon leader, or at rather, that's how I think he wants us to see it.

As far as we can tell, and by his own accounts Eric is a vampire, an honest to god, if you'll excuse the term, bloodsucker. Out of the lot of us, he's probably even more of a mystery that Zara, who I still don't even know the reason behind her signing up to our merry band.

He's a bit of a let down to an old Drac fan like myself though, no coffin, no bursting into flame at the slightest hint of sunlight, though the guy could seriously use a tan, and worse, no super strength. All my visions of the ultimate monster movie grudge-match gone before they even took off.

It's not all bad, vamps may not have all the powers they have in the movies and so on, but they do have the ability to regenerate fast enough for you to actually watch the wounds healing, very cool, though the lack of blood, or even an expression at the time is very unnerving.

No pain, and damned near un-killable, sweet gig but that's their only power other than some uber charisma thing, though I still say that's more to do with Eric's pretty boy looks than any supernatural boost.

Did I mention he's immortal?

Well, I'm not sure, but he certainly acts older than his nineteen years, and surely at least one of the movies things has to be accurate, I refuse to believe TV lied to me all these years.

"Back already?", a quiet voice at my shoulder intoned, almost making me jump had he not done the same thing to me many times before.

Eric stood behind me, his face neutral as always as he searched my face for signs of fear when I turned around, and nodding slightly when he found none.

He didn't do this to maintain dominance, though it had taken me a while to get over that notion seeing as how as a vampire, with no smell of his own and sporting stealth skills that would throw Tom Clancy into a fit of pique, his advantage picked at some deep seeded predators pride. No, he was more interested in our ability to cope with the unexpected without lashing out in a way that might reveal us, something he had stressed in that quiet way, was the only thing that mattered to him.

"Why, miss me Scarlet?", I asked, imagining I saw him frown when he failed to react beyond what might have been a brief tensing of the jaw.

My nickname for him was a tip of the hat to a show I'd watched as a child about a secret agent who was killed by aliens, cloned as an un-killable double and sent back only for them to find out he wasn't under their control as they had believed.

The name of this show? Captain Scarlet, the Indestructible Man.

It was also a reference to the other, less savoury aspect of vampire nature, something I had only once seen him doing. Feeding off humans.

The memory of the homeless girl's wide, glazed eyes is something I've tried to forget. He offered no explanation or apology, just told me never to mention it to anyone, and, in a shocking display of empathy, had told me vampires never feed off their friends.

I'd beat a hasty retreat rather than stick around, and when I'd worked up the nerve to come back, Eric was gone, and so was the girl.

"Zack?", I turned, well, spun really, to the source of the latest voice and the final member of our group of misfits.

At the other end of the gantry, stepping out of what was once probably the foreman's office before it became her bedroom was Josie.

Josie, well, where do I begin, with long blond hair and big brown doe eye combined with the body of a porn star, Josie was just one of those girls you never gave a second look because your eyes never left her.

"Zacky!", now I know I should have been nauseated by her nickname for me, but in my defence… ah hell.

As she ran down the gantry, the motion doing things her dress was ill equipped to conceal, I couldn't help but grin. Again I blame it on the wolf.

"Dumbass", Zara's comment could have been meant for Josie, the other girl wasn't over furnished in the brain department, something that was apparently part of the reason her uncle had abandoned her, though I had a suspicion I was the intended recipient.

Just because Josie could have petted me like a puppy without a word of complaint, and in fact came close to doing so on occasion much to Zara's disgust, doesn't make me an idiot, right?

In fact, don't answer that.

I braced myself, taking the impact of her diving hug in step and returning it, swinging her off her feet and spinning her, delighting in her squeals on some animal level and resisting the urge to snort a nose full of her scent after doing so last time had left me dizzy for days.

Josie was the only person other than Zara who had warmed to me instantly. Eric had been cold and aloof, John was civil but distrustful, as if waiting for me to try and butcher them all in their sleep, perhaps a tad hypocritical of someone who willingly lives with a vampire but at the time I hadn't blamed his caution. Irvine had been, well, insane, still was so he didn't really count, but Josie had welcomed me like we were childhood friends, it was just in her nature.

She was also the first one whose powers I'd learned about, if you could call them that. Josie had the uncanny ability to survive almost anywhere. Take her into a forest miles from civilisation and she would unerringly and within seconds find food, water and shelter no less than a few feet from wherever you dropped her. A very useful trait for scavengers like ourselves, and one she was more than happy to let us use.

Of course, between John, Eric and herself, we usually didn't need her talents, just a few minutes with the ear of a _sympathetic_ shop owner.

"Oi, what's all the commotion about out here?", a voice boomed up from the lower levels, John's good natured grin matching his tone perfectly as he strode in and took a seat next to Zara, who promptly shifted over as far as the sofa would allow.

John put his hand to his brow in a sign of mock suffering, making sure to catch my eye as he did so.

"It's not fair you know Zack, hogging all the girls like this", he complained winking at Josie who I still hadn't let go of.

"What can I say, chicks did the fur", I said, smiling as Josie swatted me.

Zara snorted and tried to edge further away, shooting John a warning glare as he used the distraction to inch closer.

"Not into the wild ones? Perhaps there's hope for me yet"

"Fuck off John", Zara replied, her auburn hair swaying as she shook her head, which only made him chuckle ruefully.

"Sorry my dear, faint heart never won fair lady", he said, making sure to pin her with his gaze in a way that should have had her swooning.

I guess when you live around people like John and Eric for so long, you become immune to their charms.

"Bite me"

Another chuckle.

"I believe that's more Eric's field than mine my love", John replied with a quick nodded of the head for the vampire in question.

Maybe it's that whole animal instinct thing, but I'm sure I was the only one who saw the look Zara cast Eric, something between abashed and longing. Then again maybe I'm just seeing things cause Eric never reacted, and it was gone so fast I couldn't really be sure it was ever there.

This banter continued for a few minutes, Eric dismissing himself with a touching comment about how the whole display was disgusting him and Josie eventually abandoning me to try and play peacekeeper between John and an increasingly vocal Zara.

Yes, I couldn't help but think as I lent over the bars, resting my weight on my arms and stretching kink in my neck as I listened to the ensuing chaos, alone we were just a bunch of freak kids, but here, together, we were sort of like one big dysfunctional family.

I was lucky to have found people like me, people so accepting.

Which is what would make what happened next so tragic…

**

* * *

**

**---Authors Notes---**

This novella is based on the works of Kelley Armstrong, author of the fantasically popular horror series Women of Otherworld.

Visit her website at: w,w,w (dot) kelleyarmstrong (dot) com for more information

Till next time; Betweenheavenandhell


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